As I unlocked the great door, at the top of the steps, I paused,
nervously, a moment, at the strange, desolate smell that assailed my
nostrils. Then, throwing the barrel of my weapon forward, I descended,
slowly, into the darkness of the underground regions.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I stood for a minute, and listened.
All was silent, save for a faint drip, drip of water, falling,
drop-by-drop, somewhere to my left. As I stood, I noticed how quietly
the candle burnt; never a flicker nor flare, so utterly windless was
the place.
Quietly, I moved from cellar to cellar. I had but a very dim memory of
their arrangement. The impressions left by my first search were blurred.
I had recollections of a succession of great cellars, and of one,
greater than the rest, the roof of which was upheld by pillars; beyond
that my mind was hazy, and predominated by a sense of cold and darkness
and shadows. Now, however, it was different; for, although nervous, I
was sufficiently collected to be able to look about me, and note the
structure and size of the different vaults I entered.
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